.
So far... On his seventh birthday, Harry Potter was inspired to never stop asking for help. He learned about magic early and, adopted by Mercy Fuller, launched a junior academy, mainly for Muggle-raised children aged seven to ten. Friends were made. Now at Hogwarts, Mr Filch is killed by a troll. Read on...
.
Chapter 8
The Wrath Of Mercy!
.
Owling Home
Lessons kept them busy all afternoon, but that evening, in the Ravenclaw common room, Harry could not rest. never stop!
"Why did Quirrell say the troll was in the dungeon, then?" he mused aloud, his quill slowing to a halt on his homework parchment. He stared unseeingly at whatever he'd been writing. "And..." He paused, having just remembered the–
"–What is it, Harry?" said Neville.
"Uuh... nothing, just thinking about... Well, I heard an uumm... strange voice in the Great Hall after everyone had left because of the troll last night."
Neville glanced at Hermione. "Maybe you should keep quiet about that, Harry. Hearing voices when there's no one there is not exactly–"
"–Fairies," said Luna dreamily. "I hear them all the time sometimes."
Harry, still gazing blindly down at his homework, slowly shook his head. "This was no fairy, Luna. More like..." He jerked upright. "It was him!"
"Who, Harry?"
"Voldemort!" He searched the faces of his friends but saw mostly doubt. "I'm sure it was! Listen, I used to faintly imagine that voice in my head years ago – what if it was a real memory? Isn't it very likely that, as he tried to kill me when I was a baby, he said something? A threat? A violent cry? And he'd have to shout the killing curse itself! Even a baby would never forget that, right? And Quirrell knows something too! I'm going to–"
"–Sit down, Harry!" cried Hermione. "Think this thing through first. Professor Quirrell is a nervous wreck – hardly the sort of person to get involved with dark lords and suchlike."
Harry sagged back down in response to his smart friend's reasoning. "Even so..."
He wouldn't hesitate to walk away from any threat or unjust demand imposed on him, but he knew he would never stop asking for help or giving it. He'd scarcely known Mr Filch, and the caretaker didn't strike him as particularly likeable. But he hadn't deserved to die in such a gruesome way. None of the staff seemed to care that a troll had entered the school and killed someone. It could have been anyone. Or any number. There had been no announcement by the Headmaster as to why the school should be any safer now than before!
"Harry...?"
His mother would be giving a Potions class in the morning, but there'd be no time for lengthy discussion with her of the danger. It simply would not be fair to hold her up while there were youngsters more in need of her attention back at the Academy. He'd owl her tonight! Yes, that was it! He jumped to his feet.
"Harry!"
He sank down again. But what could he say to her? Hogwarts wasn't safe? Voldemort might be able to get in? Might already be in! He had no interest in fighting that monster! Maybe it was time to walk away from Hogwarts forever...?
"HARRY!"
"What!" He was on his feet again.
"You've been muttering to yourself for the last two minutes," said Hermione. "If you're this troubled, you should talk it over with your mum."
"Troubled? Aren't you? Are we even safe here? Neville, you could have been killed yesterday! What about tomorrow? And Weasley could have been– is he okay now?"
Neville nodded. "He thinks he knocked out the troll. Is bragging about it."
"He doesn't know you saved his life?"
"Not important," said Neville. Luna squeezed his hand.
Harry sighed. "We've got Defence in three days time and I'll have to face Quirrell again. Not sure how I feel about that. I don't think a troll could or would let itself into Hogwarts – somebody let it in and Quirrell's the only suspect. He couldn't have seen it down in the dungeons because it never went down there. But why alert everyone?"
Luna waved her wand and pretty white sparkles fluttered about like fireflies, disrupting Harry's sequence of thoughts.
"Luna..." he growled in mild irritation.
Colour exploded softly rotating above, melting pastels and blushes of more vivid hues weaving through. Harry lost track of the pale sparkles as he gaped at the intricate patterns above. So beautiful was the display that other students looked around too.
"Luna, why are you–"
"–It's called a diversion, Harry," smiled Luna. "Everyone was out of the way so that Professor Quirrell could do something wicked – but you were there, so he was diverted from his own diversion. Then Professor Snape arrived and diverted him from his diversion. It's a wonder his head's not spinning."
"You're right. I'm going to owl Mum – she'll know what to do." And with that, he dashed off.
Hermione called after him, but he was already out the door. She rolled her eyes, sighed, picked up a spare piece of parchment and a quill, and set off after him.
Harry was already sprinting back down the owlery steps as she ascended. "Can't stop! Forgot to write the– oh!" Hermione was waving the parchment in the air.
"Honestly, Harry! Come on, you can write your message up here."
Harry cringed a sheepish grin. "What would I do without you, Hermione?"
She used a cleansing charm to clear owl droppings off a wooden bench, and they sat down together while he scribbled out a note, putting in every detail he could think of, including Fang's tracking and the splintered side door. Finally, he chewed on the end of the quill. "Think that's about it..."
"Tell her about the painful death warning not to go near the third-floor corridor."
"The what?"
"Didn't you listen at all to the Headmaster's announcements at the opening feast?"
"Erm... too preoccupied worrying about Neville being separated from us."
"Forbidden Forest...?"
"Uumm... anyway, friends shouldn't be parted..."
"No magic in the corridors?"
"We're... aren't we allowed to use magic in the corridors?"
"No, don't write that! But tell her about that voice you heard."
"Okay." He scratched away for a while then nibbled the quill for a while longer. "Do you think I'm silly for supposing we'll never be parted? I mean, what about when we finally leave Hogwarts and get separate jobs?"
At that, he looked up at his friend, the idea of not seeing her again caused an unpleasant ache in his chest. "We'll always be in touch though, won't we, Hermione?"
"Always," she said, but his words had caused a sinking feeling in her own stomach.
"Love," she said.
"What?"
She tapped the parchment, "Give your mother my love."
"Right... Hermione sends her love..."
Hermione leaned closer to watch him write, and felt a sudden urge to kiss him on the cheek. She jumped up instead and coaxed an owl over with a treat. Together, Harry and Hermione watched the bird speeding out of the window and head south towards London. "Wonder what Mum'll do..." murmured Harry.
"Call the Aurors, I expect," said Hermione. "Come on, let's finish our homework. Castle security is not our problem anymore. Put it out of your mind, Harry."
And together, they walked away.
.
Surprising News
The next morning at breakfast, Harry watched as a girl timidly approached Dumbledore at the head table. There was something very odd about her and, for a few seconds, he could not think what it might be...
"She's not wearing house colours!" said Hermione, whose eyes had followed the direction of Harry's gaze. "More like... almost staff robes, but not tall enough even for a seventh-year..."
They both scanned the row of seated teachers to see if the diminutive figure might be a prefect substituting for one of them...
"Only Quirrell's not there yet. Surely she can't be teaching Defence? Hardly an inch or two over five foot."
The Headmaster took a document from the girl and nodded. She turned away to exit the way she had entered, and it was only then that Harry could see the despondent expression on her clearly-adult features. Perhaps it was that very expression that made her look so plain – even unattractive. Her cheap clothing reminded him of his early years. The young woman was hurrying as if anxious to get out of there.
"Your attention, please!" cried the Headmaster, tapping a goblet with his wand, and rising to his feet. "May I introduce our new caretaker, Miss Hyacinth Wack."
The surprised girl hesitated in her stride, unsure of what was expected of her at that moment. Hermione wondered if she were going to curtsy. But as Slytherins began laughing at her name, and raised whispers of "Mudblood-Squib!" reached everyone's ears, the young woman increased her former pace, and almost ran towards the exit.
"You would all do well," continued Dumbledore, "to keep observing the rules and guidelines set by the late Mr Filch. Thank you."
The new caretaker was saved from any further embarrassment by the distraction of dozens of owls flying in. Harry's head jerked up, looking for Mercy's bird. Hermione gave some bacon rind to a news owl, and began to open up the day's copy of the Daily–
–SHRIEKS!
Hermione wasn't the only one preparing to read the Daily Prophet, and some had beaten her to it. "Oh – my – God!" She gazed down at the pulsating headline...
CRIME AT HOGWARTS!
HEADMASTER REFUSES
TO NOTIFY THE AURORS!
"Listen to this, Harry! At Halloween, a mountain troll somehow entered Hogwarts and killed one of the staff, and would no doubt have killed many others if a courageous student had not destroyed the beast! But how did it get inside the castle? Whereas the entire Hogwarts faculty casually dismissed the mystery as unsolvable and the danger to our children as irrelevant, it only took a few minutes for a really smart Ravenclaw student to suggest using a hunting dog to prove th–"
–Harry smirked and preened himself – but Hermione sniffed disdainfully and turned to the dreamy, blonde-haired girl beside her. "Well done for helping solve the mystery, Luna."
"What!" Harry deflated. "Oh yeah, congratulations on your erm... idea, Luna."
Hermione continued to read aloud, "Despite the Headmaster's vain attempts to vanish all the evidence (itself, a crime), the boarhound's keen nose clearly demonstrated the route the huge mountain troll took exclusively to the castle's first floor. Why then did Quirinus Quirrell – a former Muggle Studies Professor and would-be Dark Arts teacher – insist that he'd seen the troll in the dungeons? This reporter for one, is convinced that only somebody skilled in the Dark Arts would have the knowledge and power to bring a dull-brained troll inside the Hogwarts magical defences which, we are led to believe, are impassable. Or are they? And why was the crime – for crime it clearly was – covered up? Swept under the carpet? Are YOUR children still safe at Hogwarts?"
"Wow! Just Wow!" cried Harry, stretching across Hermione to read it with her – she didn't pull away this time. "Mum's really gone for the jugular. Didn't realise she'd be this furious!"
"Because she's worried about your safety, Harry," said Hermione, then added thoughtfully, "This has to be why Professor Quirrell is not here for breakfast. He probably saw an earlier edition and fled. I think you were right; he was involved!"
A shadow cast across the couple. "Potter, the Headmaster wishes to see you in his office right away," said McGonagall in a frosty voice before sweeping away.
"Me...?" murmured Harry, but loud enough for McGonagall to hear. She paused in her stride but then continued her departure. In fact she strode right out of the Great Hall, and Harry wondered if he'd been supposed to follow her.
"I'd better go. The old goat will probably–"
"–Harry!" cried Hermione, "You ought to show a little respect. He is the Headmaster, after all."
"Respect? I'll show respect when he does. Is it respectful for him to support Snape's bullying? It's not right – it's cruel. He did nothing to reprimand those slimy Slytherins this morning when they humiliated that new woman. I think Mum knows something about Dumbledore too, but she won't tell me. Probably thinks I'd kill him if I knew. If Mum hadn't agreed to a compromise, I don't think I'd have–"
"–It would be lovely if your mother could be Headmistress of Hogwarts," said Luna, in her usual dreamy way. "Just think if she fought and fought and got rid of all the silly bad things and only kept the good ones."
"Not sure Hogwarts would survive," smirked Neville, which started everyone giggling. "Now children," he added, in a high falsetto that was an atrocious imitation of Mercy Fuller, "what say we all take the day off from boring lessons and practise hugging Slytherins for a ch–"
–Thunderous knocking from the front doors echoed into the Great Hall, and Hagrid jerked to his feet – half-overturning his table – and with great strides went to answer the summons.
Three-quarters of the students had abandoned the remains of breakfast and surged out to witness this latest development. "Now, now..." rumbled Hagrid, ploughing through them like a great bear. "–'fficial Hogwarts business..." He pulled a weighty keyring the size of a small lifebuoy from his pocket and opened the door. Scarlet robes flashed: Senior Aurors!
.
Flannel
Harry sprinted up the marble staircase as fast as he could. The visitors were bound to insist on seeing the Headmaster, and he wanted to be there when they did. He caught up to McGonagall waiting by the admission gargoyle. She said nothing but led him up the spiral steps without waiting for him to get his breath back.
But though Harry was so winded and felt like leaning over to grasp his legs in support while he got his breath back, he did not: he braced himself against a tall dark bookcase on the left, remained upright, resolute, steadily controlling his breathing, and with his hands clasped behind his back – like a soldier standing at attention.
Dumbledore's eyes were not twinkling.
"Harry, I am greatly disappointed in you," he said, tapping the newspaper that lay face up on his desk.
Harry, still refraining from gasping for air, forced a puzzled frown. "Why's that, sir?"
"You should not speak to the press about Hogwarts matters that do not concern you."
Harry widened his eyes in mock astonishment. "You think it was me that wrote to the Daily Prophet?"
"Can you deny it?"
"Absolutely. I was as amazed as anyone to read the news this morning."
Dumbledore shook his head in disbelief.
"I swear on my Magic, Professor! I had no idea this would happen. It never occurred to me to contact the Daily Prophet. If anything, I'd have called the Aurors to question Quirrell." Any minute now... thought Harry, and, behind his back, fingered the blue ring he wore.
"Professor Quirrell, Harry. And why would–"
"–I don't think he's a professor anymore, Headmaster," said Harry slyly. "Didn't you notice he didn't come to breakfast? Done a bunk, I'd say. Probably in South America selling Hogwarts silverware is my guess." Like the riskless, he'd scarcely used the blue ring he'd bought in Curiosas' except for fun, but he knew it did more than offer light shield protection. Any minute now...
"Harry this is not a matter to be treated frivolously."
"Do I look like I'm laughing? Mr Filch is dead. Dead. His death was caused by a dark wizard who somehow lured a troll into Hogwarts to divert the staff in the wrong direction while he–"
–And then it hit Harry like a thunderbolt. What had Hermione told him to put in the message to his mother? Tell her about the painful death warning not to go near the third-floor corridor.
"Divert the staff from what, Harry...?" said Dumbledore.
"...while he went up to the third-floor corridor." Harry was guessing, but he knew from McGonagall's shocked reaction he was right. And then he had another brainwave. "What's up there endangered every child in this school and brought about the killing of Mr Filch!"
"Harry, do you know what is on the third floor?" Dumbledore said quietly.
"Of course!" lied Harry. "Everyone does – though something that valuable will be in South America by now." Any second...
For the first time, Harry saw great alarm in Dumbledore's eyes. He'd just leapt to his feet when there was a loud rapping at the door.
"Who's there?"
Harry twisted his blue ring fully round and took a step back into the shadow of the bookcase...
The door opened. "Aurors, Headmaster," said Hagrid, and left, awkwardly struggling to get his bulk around the newcomers and down the narrow spiral stair.
"And why are you here?" demanded Dumbledore, as the two officials entered the chamber.
"We are investigating the killing that took place here at Hogwarts, said one of them. "I'm Scrimgeour and this is Dawlish."
"I know who you are," said Dumbledore sourly.
Harry could clearly see his anxiety even from across the room. Ever since he suggested his 'valuable object' was likely already stolen. What could it be that had so unsettled the fearless Dumbledore?
"This will have to wait," continued the Headmaster. "Something more urgent demands my att–"
"–Wait? No, Headmaster, we INSIST!" said Scrimgeour sharply. "I have here a warrant to search the entire castle. You will not resist this order, but we need information from you first, and we need it right now."
Dumbledore thought quickly. He needed to satisfy them with something. "My own investigations–" – Harry gasped loudly in annoyance, but nobody took any notice while the great man was speaking – "–led me to believe the troll was a diversion set up by our Professor Quirrell while he attempted to steal an extremely valuable artifact. I have only just realised this myself, so you will understand if I go and check that–"
"–We'll come with you."
"That won't be necessary. I must–"
"–If it is connected with this crime then I demand that we come along."
Dumbledore sighed. "Very well, but I tell you this in absolute confidence, you understand. I need you to swear you will not divulge this information to anyone – to anyone mind."
"So long as it need not be shared in connection with this investigation and possible trial, I swear."
"As do I," said Dawlish.
"Very well," said Dumbledore. "The object I am protecting here at Hogwarts was first magically wrapped up by Nicholas Flamel and secretly placed in a Gringotts vault – yet was almost stolen you might recall."
Scrimgeour's eyes bulged in astonishment. "The Philosopher's Stone? Is that what was in that Gringotts' vault! And you have it here?"
Dumbledore nodded. "So you see why absolute secrecy is necessary. Come with me if you must..."
Scrimgeour blocked the door. "First tell me which was the student who discovered the beast's trail into the castle?"
"Ah, that would be..." For a few moments, Dumbledore looked puzzled. "Minerva, did you tell Harry to leave?"
"No, he's... he must have slipped out when..."
The Headmaster was immediately alert. His eyes widened in alarm and began scanning around his office before finally focusing on Harry. "Harry? You're still here?"
"Yes, of course, sir. You never told me to go, so I erm..."
"You heard everything?"
"Nothing I didn't know already. Is something wrong, sir? You must have been too distracted to remember I was waiting for you."
Dumbledore frowned. "But how–"
"–Is this Harry Potter? He's the one?" said Scrimgeour. "Dawlish, you question the boy. I'll go with Dumbledore to see if anything's been stolen."
.
Puzzle solved
"Harry, promise me you didn't tell the Auror you hear voices!" said Hermione, as he explained what had happened on their way to Potions.
"Not voices, Hermione – one voice. And it was Voldemort."
"And he believed you?"
"I told him the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecy will confirm Voldemort must be still alive."
"But..."
The four children turned into the next passageway and headed to the stairs at the far end.
"Hermione, it's not my problem whether anyone believes it or not. Anyway, I found out something more interesting."
"What?" said the other three together.
"I know what the danger is up on the third floor."
The three looked at one another then repeated, "What?"
"It's a total secret so you mustn't tell ANYONE."
"WHAT!"
"It's the Phosphorous Stone of course."
"The what?" said Hermione.
"You don't know?"
She shook her head, frowning, and trying to think.
Harry's shoulders slumped a little. "I was hoping you'd know. Anyway it must be jolly dangerous. Dumbledore said it had been magically wrapped in knickerless flannel to keep it safe in a vault.
"It's Flam–ell" said Neville gravely. "Nicholas Flamel. He's a friend of Dumbledore's. It's on his chocolate frog card."
They stared at him.
"What?" Neville responded defensively. "I used to collect them before I... before I grew up."
But Hermione was deep in thought. "Flamel... Flamel... – of course," she cried as they reached the five steps that led into their Potions classroom. "I remember it now. The Philosopher's Stone can turn any metal into gold and make the Elixir of Life – that's what Professor Quirrell must have been after. It would make Voldemort immortal."
"Aah..." sighed Harry. "Puzzle solved. Thought we'd never stop. At least we can forget about that now and concentrate on our magic. Come on, up the steps before Mum – I mean Professor Fuller – shows up. I think we're producing a chocolate froth draught and everlasting liquid ice cream potion with cherries today."
"I love your mum, Harry," said Luna.
"So do I," said Harry. "So do I."
And with that, they walked away.
.
—oOo—
.
Author's Notes
In a review, Trucker brought up this problem about Brit use of 'first floor' compared with American use. I sometimes use 'first upper floor' but in Chapter 7 I think the occurrences were speech. Can't think of an easy solution. If we Brits officially switched to the American form I'd embrace it; makes more sense.
Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)
– Hippothestrowl
.
